Learning to Live Again
by Cinnamon68
Summary: My take on how the Bernie/Alex relationship may have panned out if Bernie had been honest with Marcus when asking for a divorce.


**Chapter One: Brave Enough**

Bernie rushed into Albie's after her shift had finally ended with the confrontation with Alex. She could still hear the hurt in Alex's voice and see the tears in her eyes as Alex had kissed her and walked away. She wanted so much to take away Alex's pain. She knew Alex was right; she needed to sort out her life, and decide what wanted.

'Whiskey,' she ordered, as the barman looked up. 'Make it a double.'

She watched as Serena approached, and she swallowed the amber liquid with haste. Not the usual way of savouring her favourite drink.

'Bad Day?' Serena asked, and Bernie turned to see genuine concern on her colleague's face.

'Challenging,' Bernie responded. 'The worst is yet to come.' Bernie lifted the back of her hand up to her mouth as she replaced the glass on the counter top, and thanked the barman. 'Uh huh, Dutch courage.'

'Maybe I should buy you another?' Serena asked eyeing her, thinking Bernie looked like she could do with a few more inside her.

'Thanks,' Bernie demurred, 'but there's something I have to do at home. Huh; wish me luck.'

'Good Luck!' Serena said, as her mouth formed a tight smile.

Bernie smiled weakly, spun on her heels and exited Albie's, leaving Serena to wonder what was going on.

'Marcus, we need to talk.' Bernie said, after she'd arrived home and allowed Marcus to pour her another whiskey.

'No good conversation ever started with those words.' Marcus replied and Bernie could already see the hurt on his face, felt it in his voice.

'Marcus…' Bernie tried.

'You want a divorce.' It's a statement and Marcus knew that's what she wanted to say. He is certain. He's felt it since she returned; her heart just isn't in it. Bernie looked up studying his face. Why is he making this easier for me, she thought, as she watched him pace up and down their living room. Marcus passed his hand over his face and sighed.

'I...yes..' Bernie tried to find the words. She felt tears threaten to fall. She steeled herself to look at her husband of 25 years and knew she didn't want to hurt him. 'I don't think I can go on like this, Marcus. I'm sorry.'

'Is there someone else?' Marcus accused. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't do this, in the moments he's allowed himself to think about it, but he has to know.

It always comes down to that in the end, Bernie muses. This is it; time to be brave.

'No..Yes..Well, maybe not any more.' Bernie wondered what exactly to tell Marcus.

She swallowed more whiskey. Mmm Glenmorangie, her favourite. Marcus knew her so well.

Bernie closed her eyes and remembered the way Alex felt in her arms, her lips on hers. She remembered the last time they had made love; the way Alex made her feel, always loved and wanted. Alex was tender and compassionate, and Bernie realised she couldn't live without her. Steeling herself, she realised she must not take the coward's way. She didn't want to tell Marcus, didn't want to see the hurt in his eyes, but she knew she has to. She owed him that much.

'I met someone. A Captain, an anaesthetist, in the same Medical Unit. We were in the car together, when the IED hit. We'd been together for a while. She's the reason I'm alive. She saved my life.' And I only just got round to thanking her today! Bernie thought as she realised the hurt she has caused Alex by cutting off contact.

Marcus looked up and studied Bernie. He hadn't expected that.

'How long...how long has it been going on?' Marcus asked, his voice wavered.

'A few months…' Bernie replied, biting her bottom lip. She couldn't look up at Marcus, so she stared at the carpet. 'I hadn't seen her since the accident. Until today. She's left the Army too and did a locum shift at Holby. I realised just how much I love her. I miss her, and need her. I didn't mean to hurt you, Marcus, but I can't help how I feel!'

Marcus stared at Bernie. 'A woman?' he seethed. 'Have you always felt this way about women? What about me? What does that make me!? The mug who married a LESBIAN!' Marcus' voice rose higher as he shouted at Bernie, his eyes flashed with anger and pain.

Bernie winced at his words. He's lashing out, he's hurt. Bernie told herself, but the words still stung.

'Marcus, it wasn't like that. I loved you! We built a life together. We have two beautiful children.' Bernie pleaded, thankful that the said children were not at home right now, to hear their parents shout at each other. Oh God, how am I going to explain it to them?

'Loved?' Marcus whispered. The desperation in his voice was evident, as Bernie realised she had referred to their love in the past tense. Marcus balled his fists. 'I think it would be better if you left,' Marcus continued, 'otherwise I might say or do something I regret!'

Bernie stood up, swayed a little as she realised just how much whiskey she had consumed. It didn't stop her downing what was left in her glass. Swiping the bottle as she left, Bernie made her way upstairs. She pulled a suitcase out of the closet, and began stuffing it with things to keep her going for a few days. She fastened to suitcase as she looked round the bedroom she shared with Marcus on the rare occasions she was home. She had spent more time in barracks or on deployment than she had at home. Her eyes stopped on the wedding photo on the dressing table. She stared at her younger self, wondering if she knew then what she knew now, whether she would have married Marcus. She knew she preferred women to men, always had, if she were honest with herself, but in the eighties that wasn't as acceptable as it was now. Certainly not for a young doctor, intent in a career in the military.

After booking a hotel room for three nights, Bernie dialled the number of a taxi service and asked them to pick her up as soon as possible. She would have to pick up her car at some point. Bernie descended the stairs, noticing that Marcus had shut the door to the living room. She could hear the strains of REM, coming from the music centre. The mumbling, throaty voice of Michael Stipe floated through the closed door, Everybody hurts...sometimes. Her heart felt heavy, and tears threatened to fall, as Bernie sat down at the kitchen table. She tried to gather her thoughts and waited for the taxi to arrive.


End file.
